I Don't Suffer From Insanity
by AcaciaDawn105
Summary: A young student crosses paths with the infamous Clown Prince of Crime in Gotham. Something about her makes his insane head tick. But, she's not so easy to lure in. How will he deal with that? And what about Dr. Harleen Quinzel? Mostly drama and action with a smidge of fluff and/or smut...
1. Chapter 1

_**I Don't Suffer From Insanity**_

_**Chapter One~ Beginning of Insanity**_

_Arkham Asylum_

The cacophony of noise was deafening. Anxiety welled up in the young woman that moved through the halls, clad in a baggy T-shirt, holey jeans, and a pair of old, sturdy black boots, accompanied by a group of guards, clutching an array of notepads and textbooks to her chest. It was nearly choking. How anyone got any sleep in this place, she had no idea. The sheer amount of crazy locked up in this one building was palpable. It was almost as if she could feel it creeping in on her, looking for a way in, along with the calls and whistles that followed her down the hallway. She gulped, trying to breathe through the ball in her throat.

At the end of the hallway, another woman, blonde, hair pulled back in a ponytail and a pair of long, long legs wearing a doctor's coat stood examining something on a clipboard. At the sound of boots, she looked up. "Ah! Right on time! You must be Mira Paloma, nice ta meetcha, honey." She extended a hand to her, a big grin on her face.

"Dr. Quinzel?" She returned the handshake, a little unsteadily as she attempted to balance the books in her arms.

"That's right. So," she looked down at the clipboard again, "You're here to talk to Mistah J...sorry, the Joker, for a class project?"

Mira nodded. "Yeah, uh, college Psychology class, year four. We're studying different kinds of mental illnesses, and are supposed to be writing a paper on them."

"Very cool. And what illness are you writing on?"

"Actually, I'm trying to make a statement on how certain different ones can affect one another. From what I've seen of your work, Dr. Quinzel, this patient shows signs of psychopathy, as well as a possibility of schizophrenia and multiple personalities. Among other things."

The doctor looked taken aback. "Multiple personalities? Well I hadn't thought of that. Perhaps your right, honey. Now, I will warn you that this patient is...well, for lack of better term, he's very good at manipulating people to do what he wants them to, as is evident by the multiple robberies and murders committed in his name. He's also very good at reading people, so I'd do my best to keep my emotions and such under control if I were you."

"You're saying, if given the chance, this man would use my own mind against me to saaaaay...get out of here?"

Dr. Quinzel seemed taken aback for a moment, then nodded, "Exactly. So, whatever he does or says, don't let him get under your skin. He can't do anything to ya here, honey." With that, she smiled again, "Shall we?" Turning, she nodded once to the guard at the door. The man grasped the door in front of them, and pulled with his whole body to open it up.

Mira had been watching the news her whole life, and in all that time, she had only really heard stories of the Joker. Few civilians had ever seen him and lived to tell the tale. She was...surprised. He had been called the Clown Prince of Crime. She didn't expect him to actually look like a clown. Bright green hair. Pale, pale skin. And crazed eyes that lit up when the beautiful doctor walked in the room. Then he spotted her.

"Well, well, well. _Doctor_, you brought me a new toy!" he giggled, swaying far to the right and nearly falling out of the chair on one side of the table.

"Now, Mistah J, she's not a toy. This here's Mira Paloma. She's a Psychology major out at Arkham University. Her professor wrote her a glowing recommendation for her to come here and talk to some of the patients. She chose you." The two women sat down across from him.

"Is that right?" He cocked his head to the side. "And just _what_ is it that you want to know, little miss Mira?" The dark-haired woman just stared at him, examining him as he rocked back and forth in his seat, waiting for her to say something. "What's the matter, sweet cheeks? Cat got your tongue?" He made as if to bite his tongue off, then pulled it back and started cackling.

She gulped.

Dr. Quinzel broke in. "Well, it's obvious she's a little nervous. I mean, to be fair, who wouldn't be."

"Will you be taking notes?" Joker asked suddenly. When she didn't answer him, he frowned. "Now, now, why so shy?"

Clearing her throat, she took a breath and finally spoke up. "Yes, sir. I will be."

"Ah! She speaks! Ha ha!" Mira looked to be a little uncomfortable, which the Joker picked up on and he grinned. "And here I was beginning to fear you were a mute. Now, tell me, little miss Mira, give me an idea of what you're looking for your paper..." he eyed her up and down, "Might you be looking for the _textbook_ psychopathy that Dr. Quinzel has been so lovely enough to explain that I show? Or-or maybe you'd like to dive into the oh-so apparent daddy issues I possess in this whacked out little head of mine?" His eyes grew wide as he spoke.

"I think, for today, why don't we just allow her to sit in our session. We'll continue as normal." Turning to Mira, she said, "Whenever you feel comfortable enough, don't be afraid to jump in and ask some questions of your own, ok?" Mira bobbed her head affirmative. "Wonderful! Now, Mistah J, at the end of our last session, you were explaining about your little rivalry with the Batman."

"Ah, yes, the _Batman_." He sighed, rolling his eyes and looking as if he would like nothing more than to pull his hair out. "Why is everyone so _obsessed_ with Batman? Can you answer me that, Doctor? I have no issue with him, if he'd just leave me alone. I have a business to run. So, why, oh, why, must everyone always ask me about the Bat?"

The doctor sat contemplating her answer, but she never got the chance. Mira spoke so quietly, they couldn't even make out what she said. "What was that, Miss Paloma?"

She cleared her throat again. "The same reason everyone is obsessed with you, Mister Joker."

"Please, call me J," he hung his head dramatically. "Mister Joker makes me sound old. And my friends all call me J."

"Friends?" she murmured.

"Friends, business associates, maybe one or two of my men. I don't usually like people calling me anything other than 'boss', but in your case, I'll make an exception. I have a feeling we'll be the _best_ of friends. Now, why don't you elaborate on that fascinating little thing you just said."

Both people looked at her expectantly. Mira shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Well, you're both crazy."

Joker started howling with laughter. "Finally, someone who understands! Batsy is the only person in this little city that is just a crazy as I am. But, my dear, how did you come up with such a thought?"

"Just think about it...he's a grown man that dresses up in a bat costume and runs around the city in the middle of the night, looking for bad guys to fight." She explained. "Only a crazy person would do something like that. Just like only a crazy person would shoot up a bank with armed security guards inside."

"Oh, you wound me." If the man hadn't had a straightjacket on, she had a feeling he would have had both hands clasped over his heart. Then he started laughing again. "But how do you know _I'm _the crazy one? What about all the people out there that put their trust in these banks that are stealing their money right out from under them. I'm just being honest about it. I wanted that money, so I took it. Then I invest it in my club, or some of my associates. Just good business, you see."

"And what about all the people you've killed?"

Rolling his head back, the Joker sighed. "You're so boring." He leveled Mira with a slack expression. He took a deep breath, then leaned forward again. "Everyone wants to know why I killed people, and the answer will always be the same. Because. I. Could." Mira's cheeks flushed a little. "Ooh, did that strike a nerve, little miss Mira?"

"So, you don't feel any remorse for doing horrible things to innocent people?" She breathed. Dr. Quinzel was sitting back, watching the exchange. This was facinating to her, seeing how her patient interacted to someone other than her.

"I've got a newsflash for ya, honey," he droned, "Those people weren't innocent. No one is. Not a single person in this god-forsaken world is innocent. Tell me, why do babies cry?"

She shrugged. "Because it's the only way they can communicate-"

"Noooo," he huffed. "Why do they cry?"

Confused, she responded. "To let someone know that something is wrong."

Excited, he jumped in his seat. "Exactly! They have no way of taking care of themselves, and someone always needs to do everything for them. The damn things could just be itchy for all we know, and they cry, cry, crycrycry _cry!_ People are born selfish. From the moment they exit the womb, everything is all about them. The world revolves around them. They are the center of the universe."

"Of their universe, maybe. But most people, save for narcissists and delusional psychos, come to realize that they aren't as they get older, right?"

"No, no, no, no, no. You don't understand what I'm saying. From the moment we are born, our _one_ purpose in life it to ascend. Who walks first, talks first, gets the best grades in school, makes the most money, drives the newest car. There is _always_ someone better, and we become jealous. Well, I have made it to the top. I own Gotham City, and I could have anything I ever wanted."

"Except love." Mira said plainly.

"Huh?" Joker confusedly asked.

"The only thing money cannot buy, is real, true love. Friendships and relationships. No one who really cares can be bought."

"Oh, dear..." the green haired man cocked his head at her, then glanced at the doctor before looking back at the student. "You seem to have misunderstood something, dear. I don't love, I don't need it, don't want it. And one cannot love _me_. I am not a person, but an idea. The idea of chaos within the world. And no one loves chaos. They crave order, strive for it. Those that embrace it are the only ones who are truly free. But, love? No, no, no, no. Love is a weakness. One that I, myself, have used against people. Take someone they love, put them in a dangerous situation that you control, and they will do whatever you want. Go on, ask me how many times I've had one of my men hold a knife or gun to someone's spouse, child, mother, father, beloved friend. Go on."

Mira shook her head. "I'd rather not," she murmured.

Joker burst out into his signature halting laughter. "Probably for the best, little miss Mira. Wouldn't want you to think I was an incurable mental patient."

"Well!" Dr. Quinzel jumped in, "J, I think you made great progress today. You've admitted to doing bad things, and knowing that they were bad. And," she clapped a bit excitedly, "You have spoken to your first civilian without harming them."

Mira narrowed her eyes at the woman, examining her as she continued praising the clown for his progress in their therapy. There was something...off. A sparkle in the woman's eyes, the way she leaned in when he spoke, listening more intently than any shrink she'd ever seen. It was as if he had a spell over her.

)0(

"Well, I think that went very well. You did a wonderful job of steering the conversation with him." The doctor said once the door was closed and they were making their way back to her office in a safer portion of the building.

"Really? I thought I'd rather lost control of the situation around the time he started asking me about babies."

"Oh, don't let him scare ya, honey. He's nothin' but a big softy once ya get to know him. And he's incrediblely cooperative with his therapy. Most of my patients purposely try to go roundabouts to confuse me and misdiagnose them so that they'll be released early."

"Does it ever work?"

"Mmh, once. A young man who was in for several counts of third-degree murder. After talking to him, they court psychyatrist had him sent here for treatment and detainment, saying that he should never be let back out into society." She stopped in the middle of the hall, eyes far away.

"And what happened?"

Snapping back to present, she shook her head and continued towards her office. "He tricked me into feeling sorry for him. He made himself out to be a victim of the system and convinced me to have him released after only six months out of his four life sentences. He was later found, covered in the blood of another victim, cutting his wrists to keep from being taken by police again. Luckily for him, doctors were able to save him and he was brought back to the asylum. He's been here ever since and he'll be here til he dies."

)0(

Mira's phone rang as she was attempting to unhook her keys from the outside of her bag. She hadn't had a chance to check her phone since she'd left Arkham, as she had been ordered to leave it at the front desk with the rest of her personal belongings, so that no patients got ahold of it in any way. Quickly shifting her books to her other arm, she dug her phone out of her back pocket. Yeah, it wasn't the best place to keep it in the streets of Gotham, but she had been in a rush and just shoved it there. She groaned when she saw the name pop up on the screen.

Putting the phone between her ear and her shoulder, she once again shifted the books to her left arm so she could unhook the key to her apartment as she walked up the stairs. "Hey, Mom. Sorry, I know I was supposed to call sooner, but something came up."

"And what could have possibly come up that would keep you from calling your mother?"

With a sigh, she shoved the key into the lock and turned. "I got accepted into the program."

"What program?" Leanna Paloma had always been a suspicious woman. It had kept her alive in Gotham City for a very long time. Through her first marriage, which had ended with the man dead in an altercation with warring mafiosos. Her second marriage... well, she just liked to say that there was nothing on this earth that would keep her from protecting her kids. Not even a drunkard with a gun.

"I told you, Mom, three weeks ago." Her mother's memory wasn't the best, the result of years of depression and stress. "My professor recommended me for the program to interview mental patients. I was the only one that got in."

"Really?! That's great, honey! Are you interviewing multiple people?"

As Mira walked in to her tiny one room apartment, she made a face. She was going to regret this. "No, just one. Um," she scratched at her eyebrow after she sat her bag and books on the coffee table, "I'm doing my paper on the Joker."

There was silence on the other end of the line. Mira braced for it, holding the phone away from her ear.

"ARE YOU UTTERLY INSANE?!" Even with the phone held away, she still flinched at the sound.

"Mom, it's not as bad as it sounds."

"Not as bad as it sounds? And how exactly does it sound, Mira Analise? Because to me it sounds like you're going to be in the same room with the most dangerous man in Gotham! Not even a man, a damn crime-lord, scumbag clown! He's literally certifiably insane!"

"Yes, Mom, I am well aware of that. That's the whole reason I chose him."

"Chose him? You _chose_ that psychopath?! I thought you had been _assigned_ to him."

Grimacing at the anger in her mother's voice. "Mom, listen. I am probably safer in that nuthouse than I am out of the streets of this city. At least in there, I have armed guards to protect me and watch his every move. Besides, the guy is in a straightjacket at all times, he can't physically do anything to me, and I'm too smart to let him in my head."

"Don't ever say that!" Her mother snapped. "You may be the smartest girl I've ever met, hon, but you are as naïve as the day you were born. Kids like you are the ones that memorialize people like Batman and Superman. All the while they are causing more harm than good. You get too caught up in your own smarts, and one day that's going to get you in trouble. Bad trouble."

Rolling her eyes, she spoke up. "Mom, I know. I'm being careful. Like I said, there are armed guards at every door, and it's not like I'm in there alone. Dr. Quinzel is in there, too. She's his attending psychiatrist. Don't worry, Mom. I'll be ok. Anyway, I'm still coming up to visit next weekend. I've cleared it with my job and all I have to do is go to the hospital that Friday morning. Other than that, I'm scot free all weekend."

She could hear the deep sigh from the woman on the other end of the phone. "Fine. Fine. There's no talking sense into you. You've always been bullheaded, and I don't know why I expected that to end now."

"Yes, Mother. I have to go, got homework to catch up on. I love you."

"I love you, too, darling. Be careful."

She didn't say anything else as she pulled the phone away from her ear and ended the call. Throwing the device on her bed, she passed her hand over her face as she trudged to the kitchen to make some ramen. Ah, the perks of being a broke college student.

)0(

It would be several more sessions over the course of weeks before Mira realized what it was. And it came to her in the middle of listening to Joker speak of his past as he lay on the stereotypical therapy couch.

Her eyes widened.

Harleen Quinzel was in love with the Joker, the craziest person alive, the king of criminals in Gotham City.

But he was not in love with her.

)0(

_**A/N: So, don't hate me for starting another story. I had a dream about this one and it's been stuck in my head for the last week. I had to get it out before I went crazy.**_

_**Love it, hate it? Let me know.**_

_**AcaciaDawn**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter Two~ Watch and Wait**_

She continued to watch the interactions between the two during her time with them, largely saying nothing after that first day, except for one or two questions she had now and then. There were things he said and did...he had the doctor eating out of the palm of his hand. Mira could see it in her eyes. The theory was only cemented one day when they sat down and he bluntly asked Dr. Quinzel something odd.

"What did you bring me?" he tilted his head to the side, eyes cutting to the younger woman, examining her.

The blonde woman brought something out of her coat pocket. "It's a kitty," she giggled, holding up the little stuffed cat.

"Oh," Joker said in a very obviously sarcastic tone. "How sweet."

Mira narrowed her eyes at the two of them, taking everything in. This was a classic case of Stockholm Syndrome if she'd ever seen one. It was only a matter of time before he asked her to do something bad...

"My dear Doctor, I have a small favor to ask of you." Joker said as he leaned forward again.

"Anything! I mean, yeah?" Pale blue eyes darted to the dark-haired woman sitting to the side. As if realizing that she was still there, the doctor jumped and turned to look at Mira. "Miss Paloma, if you would be so kind, I believe my patient has something he would like to talk about, privately. If you wouldn't mind stepping outside."

Something was going down, she could smell it. Instead of denying her request, she nodded. "I believe the session is almost over anyway. I should probably be headed home."

"Wonderful. I'll have the front desk call you a cab." The last part was very distracted as the blonde woman had turned back to the clown and was staring intently at him.

"I guess I'll see you next time, then. Dr. Quinzel. Mr. Joker."

Joker cocked his head at her, giving her a cap-toothed grin. "So nice to see you again, little miss Mira. Can't wait for next time."

Mira eyed him warily, but nodded and made her way to the guarded door. She banged on it with the side of her hand. Once it had opened, she waved at the woman, who still wasn't looking at her. The door slammed behind her, and she stared at it for a moment, wondering if she should report this to the higher-ups in Arkham Asylum. Surely the doctor wouldn't do anything that would put her job...or her life for that matter, in jeopardy. Because if she actually gave into the clown, it would be disastrous. The woman had to know that. Harleen Quinzel was an extremely smart woman, and she had the experience of dealing with manipulators.

So, why was she falling for this one?

Mira had made it to the front desk, knocking on the plexiglass to get the guard's attention. The man looked up, and nodded at her. "Your cab's on the way, darlin'."

"Thanks, Lords."

She had gotten to know some of the regular guards in her time of coming to the asylum. Lords was one of the only ones that was always on duty when she was there during the day. He had been relatively kind to her, if a little curious as to why she had chosen to willingly come into this place. He had asked her once, to which she had only said that she was interested in the mind behind the person. At this, he had only shrugged and told her it was going to be the end of her sanity.

Moving towards the doors, she thought back to the odd behavior between the doctor and patient. What could he possibly want to talk about that he couldn't say in front of her? Joker had had no trouble saying what seemed like very private things with her in the room, even if she was sitting silently in the corner taking notes.

Outside, she noticed, it was pouring rain. How stereotypical. "Hey, Lords? How long did they say that cab was going to be?"

"Bout ten minutes, ma'am. Though, with this deluge, might be a bit longer. Lord knows people are crazy out on those roads."

"Almost as crazy as in here, right?" The man behind the glass chuckled, snapping his newspaper.

"You won't hear any argument from me, darlin'. So, how goes the paper?" he looked over the edge of his paper at her.

Shrugging, she pulled out a page of notes from that day's interview. "I'll let you read it when it's done. It might put you to sleep, though."

"Can't wait," he nodded as he scanned the day's news of crimes and terrorism throughout the city. "You been keepin' up with the whole Batman stuff goin' on?"

"Nah. Dude's just as nuts as some of the people you got in here. I'm dealing with enough crazy as is." She waved the paper in her hand as emphasis. "As long as he stays away from me, I have no reason to be interested."

Lords peeked over the paper, "Never know, might need his help one day."

Mira cut her eyes at him, stuffing her notes back in the book. "If some person on the street decides to try to rob me, I think I can take care of myself. Don't need some psycho in a costume to save me."

"Whatever you say, darlin'."

The screech of brakes outside sounded over the screams and rainfall. "Anyway, see ya next time, Lords. Don't work too hard." He waved at her as she ducked out into the pouring rain. Running to the cab, she swung the door open and hopped in. "Hey, 5186 Trip Street, please. Thanks for coming all the way out here."

"No problem, miss. I'm gonna go ahead and warn ya, rain's makin' the fares a little high tonight. Not to mention there are some roads impassable because of flooding."

"Don't worry about it. Just take me as far as you can."

The man nodded, then took off into the darkness. Mira stared out the window, not really in the mood to talk to her cabbie at that time. It was a long ride. Once they finally made it into the city, the air became seemingly darker, danker, and thicker. Sure enough, there were sandbags and sawhorses across one of the streets near her apartment.

"Sorry, miss. Seems like this is as far as I go. If this road is blocked off, high chance the ones all the way around are, too."

"Thanks." Reaching through the little window, she passed a couple of bills, "Keep the change." Without waiting for him to answer, she darted from the cab, bag over her head, and rushed to the sidewalk. Water splashed up her calves as she ran, soaking her pants and seeping into her boots to her socks. She was only a block or two away from her building, so it wouldn't be too bad of a walk, though she was looking forward to a hot bath. Maybe she'd add some Epsom salts to get the ache from the cold out of her joints. Just as she passed the alleyway next to her building, someone grabbed her arm and threw her into the narrow path.

Mira yelped as she hit a group of metal trashcans, causing a crash to sound through between the buildings. Her textbook that hadn't fit in her bag went skittering across the alley. Rubbing her arm, Mira looked up and saw that she was surrounded by three men in masks, all carrying guns.

"What the hell do you want?!" she ground out as she forced herself up.

One of the ones in the back, wearing a smiling clown mask, turned to the one in the front and asked, "You sure it's her?"

The one in front, wearing a George Bush mask, nodded. "Yeah, it's her. Grab that book, he'll want to see whatever she has on her." With that, two of them descended on her. She screamed, kicking and scratching as they tried to grab her. She got in a few good hits before one got behind her and grabbed her arms. He pulled so hard it felt like her shoulders would pop out of the sockets. "Careful! Boss gave explicit orders not to hurt her. Hurry, grab the bag!" she heard the _ziiiip_ of the restraints they placed on her wrists.

Her head was suddenly covered up in what felt like a canvas bag, surrounding her in darkness and catching her breath in her throat. Mira struggled as hard as she could against the two men holding her, but it was no use. One of them shoved the muzzle of his gun in her back and told her to be quiet. She knew she was in trouble. In a last-ditch attempt to get away, Mira jumped, then stomped down on the foot of the one holding her arms. With her heavy boots, and her throwing all of her weight down, she felt just a little bit of pride when she heard a crunch. The man behind her started screaming, loosening his grip, but not letting go. Jerking her head back, she felt his nose crumple under her cranium. Something wet warmed her neck and she was dropped suddenly.

Before she could even attempt to get up, there were sounds of a struggle around her. The other two men. It sounded like they were fighting someone. But, she hadn't heard anyone yelling or running towards them.

Deciding to take advantage of their distraction, she ducked down and started working her arms down to her feet. It was difficult, her being slightly out of shape, but somehow, she managed to get one foot, then the other through her arms. Darting up, she yanked the bag off her head and gawped at what she saw.

Batman.

He stood before her, larger than life, it seemed, holding one of her captors, the one she had injured, by the collar. Glancing around, she saw that the other two were knocked out on the filthy alley floor. It took her a second to realize he was talking.

"-you work for?"

"If I tell you, I'm dead, Bat."

The man in the black mask examined the area around him, the clown mask catching his eye. "But how? He's locked up."

"You say that like it would stop him. Boss has people everywhere, even in places you can't reach, Bat."

"Well, then..." he hauled the man up closer to his face. "Why does he want her?"

"Look, man, I'm just an errand boy. Ain't my place to question the boss. I got no idea why he wants her. All we know is that she has information."

"_She _has a name, dammit!" she yelled. Both conscious men looked to her. Now irritated at the whole situation, Mira lifted her arms above her head, then brought them down quickly, elbows sliding past her hips, breaking the zip-ties with the sudden pressure. The henchman looked shocked. If Batman was, he didn't show it through the mask. She stalked towards the last man standing, hauled back, and socked him in the face. When his head snapped back and blood started pouring from his mouth, she smirked in satisfaction. Shaking out her hand, Mira looked back to the supposed hero of Gotham. "I was fine."

"Sure," he murmured gruffly. "You only had three guns trained on you and a bag over your head."

"They wouldn't have shot me. The way they were talking, they had orders not to hurt me." Mira scooped her bag out of the trash. She brushed it off and slung it over her shoulder. "I take it you're gonna leave them tied up somewhere for the police to find." The man in black just stared at her through the still pouring rain. Her dark hair stuck to her face as she smirked at the vigilante. Passing her arm over her face to swipe the wet locks away, she asked, "Well? Are you at least going to tell me who they were working for?" Again, he said nothing. She made a face at him and sighed. "You know what, I don't even care. I'm just ready to get out of this rain."

"You're not even a little worried that someone is after you."

Shrugging, she answered, "Who would want me? I'm no one special."

He grunted. "Obviously you're special to someone."

"Dude, I'm a college student! Not even a good one, really."

"Well, there must be some reason you've made it onto the list of one of the top crime bosses in Gotham. So...who _are_ you?"

"Me? I'm just Mira Paloma. I'm a criminal psych student at Gotham University, up to my ears in student loans. I live in this building and I have a mom that lives on the other side of town, in the suburbs. I grew up totally normal. I have no reason to be on anyone's radar."

"Mhm. How'd you know how to break the restraints?"

"What, _that_?" she pointed to the broken zip-ties. "Beginners self-defense class. Mom insisted I take it when I made the move into the city. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm soaking wet, and filthy. I'd like to go inside and take a bath."

"Someone from the GCP will be down to take your statement sometime tomorrow. Try not to go anywhere."

"Whatever." She waved him off as she stalked away back out to the street. Turning the corner, she saw a car idling, it was black and very nice. It looked like it was made for speed. "Yo, Batman?" she called out. There was a quiet whoosh and he was beside her in almost an instant. "You wouldn't happen to think that's their car, do you?"

He cocked his head in her direction, then looked back to the vehicle. "One way to find out. Why don't you go on inside?"

With a shrug, Mira did as she was asked, not bothering to look back as she unlocked the door to her building and made her way up the stairs. Whatever was going on, it wasn't her business anymore. Surely once the Batman had a scent on whoever was trying to get to her, it would stop. No one wanted him on their trail, as it could only end in all of their croonies and them in jail or severely injured. Everyone knew that Batman didn't kill, though many thought things would be better if he did. Trudging up the to the fifth floor, her head hung. As the adrinaline wore off, she was starting to feel the bruises forming along her back and arms, as well as the one on the back of her head. Stopping on her floor, she noticed her ancient neighbor, Mr. Giuterrez, placing his trash out by the door.

"Ay, mija!" he exclaimed when he stood and saw her.

"I know, I look like a drowned rat."

"Was that you I heard in the alley?" he hobbled over to her and pulled her by her elbow into his apartment.

"I'm surprised you heard that over the rain." She allowed him to sit her at his tiny kitchen table. That's when she noticed his window open, and the fact that it faced the allley-way that she had just been accosted in. "Oh..."

"You tell me who did this, you tell me and I make them pay."

Luis Giuterrez had come to the U.S. a very long time ago. He had come from a rough part of the outskirts of Mexico City, from basically the ghettos. When he was 19, he took as much as he could carry, and with a promise to send money to his family, he crossed the border. Somewhere along the line, he managed to gain citizenship. He never did see his mother and sisters again, as they had all grown old long before him, but he had married and had children, all of whom had moved out of Gotham City when they came of age, leaving their father to grow old by himself in the hellscape that was this city. She had been living across the hall from him for the last year and a half, and he had been more of a grandfather than her mother's own father.

"Thanks, Luis, but I think the Bat has that handled."

"Batman?" he asked in his heavy accent.

"Yeah, came and finished off the guys trying to take me."

"They try to take you?"

"Well, obviously not very well. I'm still here." Suddenly, a chill racked her body and she sneezed loudly.

"Oh, you going to get sick, so cold. You sit, I make you something."

"That's very sweet, Luis, but I'm ok. I was just going to go home and take a bath."

"No, no, no. You go home _un momento, _for now, you sit." He toddled off into his kitchen and started rummaging around in the cabinets. There was the sound of the microwave whirring, then she heard the _pop_ of a cork. A moment later, he shuffled back in, small bowl in hand. He set it down in front of her, then placed a spoon beside it. "Drink. You feel better."

She eyed him suspiciously, but picked up the spoon and dipping it into the clear brown steaming concoction before her. Taking a small sip, she was overwhelmed by the taste of sweet, sour, and something else. Something very strong. It made her cough. "What is that?" she choked out.

"Old Mexican remedy."

"That tells me nothing," she said as she took another sip.

"Warm honey, squeeze of lime." He stopped for a second, waiting for her to take another sip before adding, "Also, splash of tequila."

Mira inhaled the spoonful of medicine quickly, causing her to start hacking. The old man reached over the table and smacked her on the back a few times to clear her airway. "Could have told me that before I started drinking it."

"_Por que?_ Is not as if you don't drink. Do not try to deny. I've seen you stumble up the stairs at three in the morning after a night with your _amigas_. And all those nights you drink wine and turn up your music and dance."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. I don't know, I guess I'd just rather know what time taking before I take it."

"Bah," he waved his hand at her. "You drink, then you go home and get warm."

"Thanks, Luis." She gave him a small smile, then went back to drinking the sweet concoction. A little while later, when she was done with the medicine, she stood and moved to the door. "I'll get out of your hair."

"No, mija. You welcome all times, you know this. Go home, now."

Mira leaned down to kiss the old man's cheek, "I'll take your trash down to the bin tomorrow morning." then she crossed the hall and slid the key into the lock to her apartment. With one last wave, she stepped in and closed the door. She flipped the light on, shucking her bag, she called out, "Persephone? Hades?"

From her bedroom, came the pitter-patter of two sets of four paws on the hardwood. Two cats came into view, one pure white with blue eyes and a pink nose, toes, and ears, the other completely black with grey-green eyes. Both cats came running up to her, Hades wrapping around her ankles and Persephone stretching to reach for her hand, claws catching on her jeans. Both meowing at her.

"I know, you guys are hungry. Give me a sec." She said as she sat down to untie her boots, both cats jumping up to rub against her. Once those were off, she stood and started shedding clothes on the way to her bathroom. She started the bath, waiting for it to warm up. When it had, she put the stopper in and got her Epsom salts from under the sink. Two handfuls went into the water. While she waited for it to fill, she stepped back out and scooped two cups full of food and dropped it into the cats' bowls. The two launched themselves at the bowls and sounds of crunching and muffled purrs filled the room. "Pigs." Mira shook her head at them before turning back to the bathroom, snatching up her phone along the way. As she closed the door, she flipped through her music lists, settling for some Danheim. The Nordic band always gave her a sense of calm. Something about the primal, chant-like sound of their music managed to worm its way into her head and sooth her. She'd been skeptical about them when she'd first heard about them, as it was an ex-boyfriend who had gotten her to listen. But in the end she had decided they weren't so bad.

The tub finished filling as she put her phone on the back of the toilet where it wouldn't get splashed if something happened. The water was nearly boiling when she dipped her foot into it, holding onto the side of the tub to prevent her from falling in. One leg, then the other, then she slowly lowered the rest of her body, causing small waves. Hissing as the hot water hit her back, she thought about how sore she was going to be for the next week while the bruises healed. She settled down into the water, soaking in the warmth. After washing the rain water out of her hear, she relaxed a little.

It was so nice, she ended up falling asleep. And it wasn't until she heard loud meowing and claws on the bathroom door that she jolted awake, the water barely lukewarm at that point. Shaking her head to wake up a little, she pulled the stopper and grabbed a big, fluffy towel. Opening the door, the cats began circling her again, making sure she was alright. It was warm in her apartment, despite the rain outside. Being on the top floor, heat rose and often warmed her apartment nicely, especially during the winter. To get a bit of air circulating, she opened the window beside her bed.

The night sounds of Gotham City greeted her. Traffic on the streets that weren't affected by the flooding, distant police sirens, a dog barked in one of the apartment buildings adjacent to her. Her window, unlike Luis's, faced the street. She stuck her face out the window, taking in the night air for a moment, before shutting it to a crack, putting a board between the window and the top of the frame (that way no one could open it any farther than it already was) and climbed in bed. Her bed wasn't great. The mattress was old and thin, worn from the many years she'd had it. She shuffled farther under the covers, and promptly fell asleep.

)0(

_**A/N: So, here's chapter two. And you didn't even have to wait very long for it. I promise, I'll get on the ball with the stories. I'm currently home sick with my son, so hopefully, I'll get more chapters out on various things.**_


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